Sunday, May 29, 2011

Rad or Ridiculous?

It's always a dangerous thing shopping on a Thursday night. I find I'm a bit delirious come Thursday and struggle to make rational decisions post 5pm. 

I pick up things like fluffy leopard print mittens and flirt with the idea of buying them. I'm not sure if I like them purely because they are animal print, or because they feel like a fluffy kitten. I had 5 minute conversation with Lohie, debating if I would actually wear them? The best thing to do if you're unsure, is to step away and sleep on it. 

Also, is it wrong that I think this Panda Sue beanie is adorable? The name in itself is enough to make me buy it!!! I would totally wear it if I wasn't constantly mistaken for a 16 year old. I don't want to ham up the misconception. People need to know I'm a big kid, with big kid business to tend to and I don't think wearing a panda hat in my day-to-day transactions would help my cause.

So Internet, help a sister out. We know the Panda Sue hat is a definite no. But should I get the mittens? 

Fluffy mittens, kitteh like and soft. $16.95 from Sportsgirl, click here to add to cart.

Panda Sue, $19.95, Sportsgirl, click here to make her yours.

When You Accidentally Think You're a Lolcat

This blurg is dedicated to my big sissy who has requested more Lolcat content. Your wish is my command. 

So I was introduced to a friend's friend the other night. We were making polite small talk and he asked me how my dinner was. My response? 'Yeah nice thanks, lots of good noms.'

Unfortunately the gentleman was not versed in Lolcat speak and I looked like quite a weirdo. Luckily, his girlfriend was a Lolcat fan and helped me explain the meaning of nom. 

I am blaming Chinny for corrupting my vocab with catspeak. This is the girl who has been known to order her coffee saying, 'I can has coffee?' We actually can't converse unless we're in Lolcat mode which is extremely dangerous when you shift into the real world and forget to change over to human mode.  

I think it's about time the verb to nom is added to the English dictionary please!

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Nips Ahoy!

I can’t make my mind up about the cover of this month's RUSSH. I'm not sure if it's rad or ridic? Enter the fripples (frozen nipples). 

I think the copy is genius. Punchy, sharp, succinct and I'm a sucker for minimal cover lines. But I'm not sure how I feel about the blatantly erect nipples? I'm all for The Nip, but does it belong on the front cover of a mag? Or should it be saved for the confines of the pages? 

The beige skimpy singlet top is no coincidence. At a moments glance she looks nakey, so should girlfriend just take it all off? I mean, if you're going to do something, you may as well do it properly, right? The birthday suit cover has been done a million times before, it's not a new trick and a good way to spike sales. 

What do you think? Does this Brazilian babe, Aline Weber, pull it off? Or can only the fashion greats get away with it? A la Miss Moss, who we all know is the queen of the yee ol'boob / fanny flash. She loves getting her bits out, all in the name of high fashion, of course though darling. And no, I am not going to use a visual reference, go and ask Google images ya creep. 

So... never thought I'd say this but, nips on covers, please discuss. 

Venting My Home Brand Spleen

Ugh. Do people actually WRITE blogs anymore? Or have they just become outlets for self-loving? Sometimes I scroll through fashion blogs and want to stab something. Or someone. Preferably those tosser bloggers that fill their pages with shameless photos of themselves wearing their ‘on trend’ outfits, with their SLR cameras dangling from their necks. I don’t really care what shade of M.A.C lipstick* you’re wearing or what designer credits that piece of cloth you call a top. Nor do I give a shit about what product is 'tousled' through your 'locks', or what vintage market you got that canvas bag from.

Also dear Tloggers (tosser bloggers), the skinny arm pose is EXHAUSTING. Can you at least be creative, a la the Man Repeller, and take the piss a little? Because I hate to break it to ya sweetheart, YOU’RE NOT ALEXA CHUNG.

It’s the bastardisation of fashion. Jo(anna) Blo is suddenly an expert and a model and needs to publish her every outfit. No reader wants to come away from a blog feeling stabby. But I do. All the time.

Thank God for blogs that actually have their shit together. Enter Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open. The mastermind remains anonymous but whoever she is, I have the biggest crush on her. She writes like a dream and her witty, honest and hilarious observations strike a cord with the twenty-something Gen Y’ers. This post in particular is gold, a must read for anyone who has started at the bottom of the media food chain.

The blogosphere is a messy place. It's like an open house party, any dick head can rock up and vandalise the walls. But it's great when you find those diamonds in the rough.

* Side note vent: The shades of beauty products never cease to amaze. Touch, Tanarama and Brilliant Bordeaux are apparently colours? Honestly, who comes up with this shit? I'm not making this up! Behold the visual evidence below!

Vent complete. Sorry, I hope we can still be friends? This is ranty mcgee, signing off.

Love her! The Man Repeller in full force. She writes, 'yeah, so, this is a new installment called Things that Accentuate the Vagina.' Fashion blogging is best served with a generous side of humour. Image courtesy of the Man Repeller blog.

Touch? Really? This word is a freaking VERB not an ADJECTIVE people!
Tanarama sounds more like a disease from excessive fake tanning than a lippie.

The last time I checked, Bordeaux was a port city on the Garonne River in southwest France, not a colour? I have no doubt the place is brilliant, though.

Monday, May 23, 2011


Pink hair, perms, glitter by the gallon. No, we're not trick or treating. Believe it or not, it's the Billboard Music Awards where the theme of the night is apparently

To be fair, Ke$ha still manages to look like a babe even though it appears someone has attacked her dress with scissors. Nicki Minaj's body is bangin' and while a studded onesie is innovative, (at least she can stab pesky paparazzi in the eye) does anyone else feel like they are trying so hard to be different, they end up a little, well, generic? 

No one can beat the infamous egg entrance, a la Lady Gaga at the Grammys. Sorry ladies, if you want to give Gaga a run for her money you need to think bigger and better. So what's the evolution of an egg? A chicken, duh. You'd look eggscellent (too much of a dad joke? Sorry, can't help myself). 

Sunday, May 22, 2011

My Latest Squeeze

I see him from across the room. I have to have him. I run over. Fuck off everyone, he's mine. I dash to the change rooms and rip off my dress. I need him on me. Right. Now. He feels perfect, he's definitely coming home with me. 

Introducing Mr Beetroot Leather Mini. We met at Attik on Thursday night. I was tired and cranky and decided on a bit of retail therapy to lift my spirits. What can I say. He was at the right place at the right time.

As convenient as online shopping is, nothing beats the feeling of holding something tangible that's made for you. 

Attik in the Galeries Victoria is a gem. 
Wig it out - 275 Pitt St. 

Saturday, May 21, 2011

I Hope Ben Rama Finally Gets Laid

Happy end of the world peeps! How are you spending your final hours before the Apocalypse? I'm home alone doing my washing, online shopping and watching Foxtel. My last meal will be Vegemite toast. I'm crazy like that. What a stellar last Saturday night.

Twitter is abuzz with Rapture hash tags. Trending high is 'end of the world confessions', here are a few of my faves - 

So for all you other crazy kids at home on a Saturday night, let's play a game together. Tell me your end of the world confessions. You can comment anonymously.

Mine? I used to think Zac and Taylor Hanson were total babes. The oldest one, Isaac, was a dud. Not juicy enough for you? Ok, on several occasions I tricked my then baby brother into thinking it was Christmas. I would tuck him into bed and trick him into thinking when he woke up Santa would have visited. I also used to make him do dances to the Spice Girls. I was an awful tween. 

Oh! I thought of another! Our friend Boof had a 'gathering' (don't you love how they were called that) in year ten while his parents were away. Under no circumstances were they to find out. We were drinking outside and anywhere in the house was out of bounds. As I was walking back from the loo, the CD player in the living room began to skip so I ran over and fixed it. As I was running back outside, my foot clipped the side of the glass coffee table, smashing it into a million little pieces. Yikes. Mortified and embarrassed I pretended it didn't happen. Boof's parents came home and next day and he was caught. Pretty sure everyone knew it was me, but I'm finally coming clean. Boof, I broke your coffee table and I am sincerely sorry. It was a churlish thing not to 'fess up. I was a naive teenager and I hope you can forgive me. Please send me the bill, even though it's 8 years overdue. 

Oh, oh! And one more corker! At a high school party, I accidentally kissed twins on the same night. I didn't realise they were two separate people. I flirted with Twin A and we had a cheeky pash. I wandered off, probably to get more peach Archers out of my Country Road bag. I then bumped into who I thought was Twin A, continued to flirt, thinking we were picking up where we left off. We kissed again. Turns out it was Twin B... Shudder. I think an onlooker connected the dots and shouted out that I'd hooked up with both twins in the space of half an hour. What a hussy! I ran off in tears and never got to explain myself. It was an honest mistake and a lesson for all identical twins - please make sure you implement distinguishable features. Maybe one can have a moustache and the other can wear a monocle or something? Or perhaps you could adopt the Wiggles method of different coloured tunics?

Man I'm an awful person, but that feels much better. I'll die with a clear conscience. Bring. On. The. Rapture! I'm ready now. Nina Las Vegas kicked off House Party with the awesome Rapture song, No Sex for Ben. Ben Rama is a real person ya know. So where ever you are Ben, I hope you're finally getting some before the world ends. Preferably with twins, on a coffee table. 

Adios amigos! See you on the flip side.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Remember Yelle?

Non? Sure you do. Cast your mind back to the Glory Days, circa 2006 / 2007. Think festivals, electro threads, nights out at Tank (hey don't look at me like that! It was cool at the time), and of course, losing your shit to songs like Je Veux Tu Voir. Ahh, Thems the days! 

Now I've refreshed your memory, you'll be pleased to know the French band are back from the dead. Their second album Safari Disco Club was released in March and I am crushing hard on their title track of the same name. Mega cute clip and let's face it, everything is sexier in French. 

Things I Should Know By Now

  • How to open the child proof lid on the Listerine bottle. 
  • Don't walk and read MX on the way to your platform. You will crash into angry commuters. Nay, don't read MX.
  • How to reverse park.
  • There's no point having a flash phone, you will only break it. $40 Nokias are preferable. Not the best way to earn street cred, but whatevs, at least I can play Snake 2. 
  • Don't wear your new suede booties to house parties. Furthermore, don't wear your new suede booties when dancing outside in the garden. Otherwise they'll end up like this.

Thank God for magical shoe cleaners! These babies have been rescued from their trauma.

Bye Bye Sunday Night Blues

I know it's the cardinal blog sin to just post funny YouTube videos, but to hell with it. These are gold and need to be shared. And what better way to combat the Sunday night blues than with some mindless lolcanos. 

Waffles, Julian Smith: Oh Julian Smith, where oh where have you been all my life? On the weekend, the family gathers round the campfire YouTubes and young JB shows us his latest and greatest finds. It beats the shit out of Dancing with the Stars. 

Fancy, Drake: Ahh bad grammar never fails to entrain. Once again, another JB special. We were signing this all weekend. HAIR DONE, NAILS DONE, EVERYTHING DID, OH YOU FANCY HUH?

Mashed Taters: It may horrify you to know I've never watched Lord of the Rings... Until last night, when it was two against one and Edwina's tele-wish came true. It actually wasn't that bad. Who can refuse Bloom and Wood in cloaks. So many cloaks! And I quite enjoyed our running commentary i.e., who would you rather be killed by? Gollum, Spiegel or the walking tree dudes? I fell asleep around midnight and didn't make it to the end, but no matter because this video pretty much sums up the best bits. 

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Seven Signs You're Growing Up

  • You walk out of General Pants because the music is too loud.
  • You genuinely look forward to the weekend, so you can spend most of it doing nothing on the couch.
  • You don't par take in mid-week activities, unless extreme circumstances warrant it, i.e. a friend's birthday or a super amazing event. Please note, the above rule is not because I'm a party pooper, I just can't function at work if I've been up past my bed time.
  • You're little brother keeps you up to speed with pop culture. Apparently, liking Yeezy and Weezy is totally cool and kids today sign off with 'ILY'. Translation, I love you.
  • You use the phrase 'kids today', see above.
  • When the DJ plays Ja Rule and Ashanti as a retro song, you're the only who knows all the words.
  • You get excited when you make it home in time for ABC news.

But never fear! I'm half nanna, half twenty-something woman! Saturday nights are when I act my age. I still despise gardening, interiors and would rather poke forks in my eyes than attempt to cook. I always wonder if there's an age where it will click over and suddenly I'll get excited about azaleas and colour swatches? Do people magically wake up and crave the urge to go to IKEA? I really hope not? Because being into all these borza activities have always been my signifiers for being a 'proper' grown up and I'm not there yet! Phew.

Do you possess any nanna / grandpa like qualities or have moments when you realise you're growing up? In memory of the young whipper snapper I used to be and all those Knox Dances and Lavender Bays we went to, here's a little song I was OBSESSED with and yep, I still know all the words!

Wednesday, May 4, 2011


Oh hai AndrĂ© Leon Talley! I know you're a Vogue boy and all but what the frock are you wearing there buddy? It's the Met Gala! It's the fashion world's night of nights! Is it a mape? Is it a dressing gown? I'm confused. I know you're all about the wacky dressing but this makes me want to vom vom. No more words needed to describe this atrocity. Ok, maybe two - moo moo. 

Sunday, May 1, 2011


What a productive Sunday! Crafty arvos = crafternoons. Here's a sample of our wares.  

James' birthday card for Ed. Sorry, I mean Jamz. Boy's got an impressive vocab for a teen! Could still work on his spelling. 

My b'day card for Ed. 

Special edition poster! It took me about 5 goes to get that circle just right. 

Alf is back! In pog form! Our tribute to the Logies. 


For weeks, I've been searching for the perfect pair of beetroot coloured jeans. Tee Loh has been my ever helpful accomplice. Trawling online, she found these gems - 

Wham bam thank you mam Tiff! Add to cart. When telling my fam at the dinner table I'd finally found The Ones, my little brother was puzzled. 'How the hell can you get so excited over jeans?' He asked. Tsk tsk! Youth today, so quick to scoff! 'It's just like getting your hands on the latest edition of Call of Duty* James, derr.' Then he got it. 

Granted, the jeans are actually called Jetts Cranberry but whatevs, I'm doing the healthy thing and getting my daily intake of fruit, albeit, fruit on my legs. If you'd like to kick start your fashion diet with some cranberry loving, get your fix here

* For those not versed in gaming lingo, Call of Duty is a bang bang, shoot 'em up type video game.  
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